Totally Fishy (A Miller Sisters Mystery) Read Online Free
bringing up his weapon, Heart in his throat, finger on the trigger he paused one split second.
"Dr. Evo, I got the other one too."
Evo flopped on his belly, squeezed his eyes shut, and breathed hard. "Are you sure, Luis? There could be more."
"I am sure, Dr. Evo. I walked along the beach to make sure the shooter was dead. There is no one else. No I.D. on the shooter, but he's wearing the same military uniform worn by the old rebels and shooting at us with an American M-16." He scratched his bald head. "So they must not be very well funded guerillas, yes?"
"Probably got the M-16 from his grandmother's garage sale. Seriously, good job, Luis. That could be significant later. For right now, let's get the hell out of here."
"We are not turning back?"
"Not on your life. We're going ahead as planned. I want to know who those guys are. No one knew we were here, so why were they at the lagoon? Coincidence? Or worse? Who wants us dead?" Evo hefted his backpack and trudged on.
Luis picked up his pack and the specimens. Watching Evo forge ahead, he sighed. "Dead fish, dead doctor, dead Luis. I wonder if we will ever get home." Threading his arms through the straps, he hoisted his pack and followed.
Somewhere in Southeastern Wisconsin
The late fall afternoon warmed our skin as we sat around in camp chairs in my mother's back yard. The lazy afternoon, in addition to the copious amounts of beer we had consumed, added to the comfortable feeling of being among close friends and family. Our particular circle of chairs includes me, Buzz Miller, retired detective, and number one of four daughters. On my left is FBI Bob, who we worked with last month capturing a murderer.
Bob joined our little community recently, and is doing a great job of pretending to ignore my pain-in-the-ass youngest sister, Al. The funny thing about Bob (aside from his lack of taste in women) is he could pass as a younger clone of our local Sheriff, J.J. Green. It drives some of the older gossipers of our town crazy–as if they aren't crazy enough already.
J.J. sits to my right. Now J.J. is a story unto himself. I feel a little soft and mushy looking at him now, must be all that beer I drank. Anyway, when the women in town describe J.J., they say he looks like Tom Selleck and has that easy-going Andy Griffith type of personality. That combination makes him perfect for the job of Sheriff and irresistible to any female between the ages of nine and ninety. My sisters and I have known J.J. since we were kids, and believe me when I say that underneath his easy-going and handsome exterior lurks an evil mind. He might have everyone else fooled with those adorable dimples and "aww shucks" persona, but we know the real James J. Green. He always ran off before getting caught. He wasn't smarter. He could just run faster.
If the older generation knew half the stuff he pulled when we were younger, they'd have never elected him sheriff. Heck, he'd have spent more time in jail than he does now.
Oh, but how the women love that man. Young or old, they turn to mush when he walks into a room.
One look from those crinkly, humor-filled eyes, or a glimpse of those deep dimples on his Marlboro Man face would make one of those high-powered corporate chicks from the city start knitting baby booties.
It was a sad day when J.J. went off the market and up and married June Tabbot thirty years ago. Some major loser knocked her up and J.J. came to her rescue. He gave her his name, a good home, and he gave her son legitimacy and a great father. All June ever gave him was a hard time. She ran off with a water softener salesman three years later, leaving Adam with J.J. with no one ever hearing from her again. Bitch–good riddance.
The fact is, the day J.J. became single, every breathing female within a 40-mile radius came into heat, and the local gossips (and we've got some professional gossip mongers in our town) claimed they wouldn't leave J.J. alone until they found him the
"Dr. Evo, I got the other one too."
Evo flopped on his belly, squeezed his eyes shut, and breathed hard. "Are you sure, Luis? There could be more."
"I am sure, Dr. Evo. I walked along the beach to make sure the shooter was dead. There is no one else. No I.D. on the shooter, but he's wearing the same military uniform worn by the old rebels and shooting at us with an American M-16." He scratched his bald head. "So they must not be very well funded guerillas, yes?"
"Probably got the M-16 from his grandmother's garage sale. Seriously, good job, Luis. That could be significant later. For right now, let's get the hell out of here."
"We are not turning back?"
"Not on your life. We're going ahead as planned. I want to know who those guys are. No one knew we were here, so why were they at the lagoon? Coincidence? Or worse? Who wants us dead?" Evo hefted his backpack and trudged on.
Luis picked up his pack and the specimens. Watching Evo forge ahead, he sighed. "Dead fish, dead doctor, dead Luis. I wonder if we will ever get home." Threading his arms through the straps, he hoisted his pack and followed.
Somewhere in Southeastern Wisconsin
The late fall afternoon warmed our skin as we sat around in camp chairs in my mother's back yard. The lazy afternoon, in addition to the copious amounts of beer we had consumed, added to the comfortable feeling of being among close friends and family. Our particular circle of chairs includes me, Buzz Miller, retired detective, and number one of four daughters. On my left is FBI Bob, who we worked with last month capturing a murderer.
Bob joined our little community recently, and is doing a great job of pretending to ignore my pain-in-the-ass youngest sister, Al. The funny thing about Bob (aside from his lack of taste in women) is he could pass as a younger clone of our local Sheriff, J.J. Green. It drives some of the older gossipers of our town crazy–as if they aren't crazy enough already.
J.J. sits to my right. Now J.J. is a story unto himself. I feel a little soft and mushy looking at him now, must be all that beer I drank. Anyway, when the women in town describe J.J., they say he looks like Tom Selleck and has that easy-going Andy Griffith type of personality. That combination makes him perfect for the job of Sheriff and irresistible to any female between the ages of nine and ninety. My sisters and I have known J.J. since we were kids, and believe me when I say that underneath his easy-going and handsome exterior lurks an evil mind. He might have everyone else fooled with those adorable dimples and "aww shucks" persona, but we know the real James J. Green. He always ran off before getting caught. He wasn't smarter. He could just run faster.
If the older generation knew half the stuff he pulled when we were younger, they'd have never elected him sheriff. Heck, he'd have spent more time in jail than he does now.
Oh, but how the women love that man. Young or old, they turn to mush when he walks into a room.
One look from those crinkly, humor-filled eyes, or a glimpse of those deep dimples on his Marlboro Man face would make one of those high-powered corporate chicks from the city start knitting baby booties.
It was a sad day when J.J. went off the market and up and married June Tabbot thirty years ago. Some major loser knocked her up and J.J. came to her rescue. He gave her his name, a good home, and he gave her son legitimacy and a great father. All June ever gave him was a hard time. She ran off with a water softener salesman three years later, leaving Adam with J.J. with no one ever hearing from her again. Bitch–good riddance.
The fact is, the day J.J. became single, every breathing female within a 40-mile radius came into heat, and the local gossips (and we've got some professional gossip mongers in our town) claimed they wouldn't leave J.J. alone until they found him the
Readers choose
Andrea Miller
Michele G Miller
Cora Cade
Alex Hughes
Robert D. Kaplan
Kate Mosse
Beth K. Vogt
Jennifer Wilson
Sean-Paul Thomas